Gemotions

The gallery buzzed, a cocktail party atmosphere she usually thrived in. Now, Amelia felt a chill settle in her bones, despite the warmth of the room. She stood frozen by a wall, her stomach twisting. There, bathed in the curated spotlight, were her paintings. The ones she’d abandoned, the failures she’d buried in the back of her studio. Her name, bold and brazen, was plastered beneath them.

Her hand instinctively flew to her throat, as if to ward off a physical blow. A knot of frustration tightened in her chest, making it difficult to breathe. She hadn't given permission. She'd explicitly refused.

Across the room, she saw her ex-boyfriend, the gallery owner, beaming, surrounded by admirers. He caught her eye and gave a charming smile, a look that once melted her but now only stoked the ember of disappointment.